


stronger with you.

by AlwaysInSonder



Series: Plance One-Shots. [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Not-Mafia Mafia AU no one asked for, Allura is The Godmother because she's badass like that, But Still Soft Plance Goodness, Doing Pidge Whump for a change, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past Lovers, TW: Description of injuries, side character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17588981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: “I never stopped loving you,” she whispers. His breath hitches, but he resumes tying his laces like she’d done nothing but casually inform him of the weather. He wants to tell her more - respond in kind - but he knows now is not the time.





	stronger with you.

It’s a miracle that he manages to open the door while carrying her in his arms. The door drifts quietly shut behind him and the automatic locks - courtesy of his boss - click in place. The apartment is blanketed in darkness, but he carries her in with ease. For a split second, his mind replays a memory of the day she moved in with him and how he had carried her over the threshold in jest. He shoves the memory to the back of his head and instead, focuses on the woman in his arms.

Her hair is matted and the bruises on her face shiny. There’s scratches on her arms he only notices now that more bruises run up them; mottled and dark against her deathly pale skin. If it weren’t for the soft sniffles, he would have thought he is holding a corpse in his arms.

She’s trembling still, and it breaks his heart.

“You’re safe now,” he soothes, his knuckles still caked with dried blood that isn’t his own. “They can’t hurt you anymore." He carries her deeper into his apartment, to the ensuite of the guest bathroom. Pidge grips his arms as he lowers her to the tub and he’s gentle when he sets her down. Lance gently pries her fingers from his biceps and rubs them between his palms in a weak attempt to ease her. In the distance, he hears his phone go off - likely a call from Keith - but he ignores it.

He barely recognizes her. She's a woman who would have gladly skinned alive anyone for committing such an egregious crime on any other soul. But now, she looks so powerless and broken in his arms. The very woman who used to berate him for being too soft on his targets had looked at him like he was a _monster_ when he attacked her assailant.

Even so, he will never apologize for what he did. He saw the woman he loved - _loves_ - in danger, and he became unhinged. That is his only explanation.

As he pulls away from her, he feels a tug to his jacket. It’s her, pulling him close as she could. Her eyes still refuse to meet his but it’s clear that she wants him to stay.

“Are you sure?” he asks, just to be certain. He waits for her nod before slipping off his jacket. It lays as a crumpled, bloodied heap on his floor; his mud-caked shoes having already made quite the mess throughout his apartment. He will clean those later.

His tie is next and his blood-soaked watch that she gifted him many birthdays ago. As he washes his knuckles until the raw, bruised skin reveals itself, Pidge peels off her blood-drenched top. He turns to her and holds back a grimace.

The bruises are angry; purple, yellow and red splotches run up her abdomen. His blood boils and he forces himself to look away. He only turns to her when he hears her fumbling with the taps. Her hands are too shaky, but her brow is set - she’s determined to do it herself.

With a sigh, he kneels next to the tub and closes his hand over one of hers. It’s as small as he remembers, as he’s held it many times before. His fingers close around the tap, hers still beneath them, and he lends her his strength to turn it. With a low voice, he reminds her to remove the last of her clothes and she complies by adding her torn pants and underwear to the pile of soiled clothing. All evidence needs to be destroyed and there was nothing more to it than that, she knows it.

Modesty was the least of their worries. He’s worshipped her body in this very tub and she's given him sponge-baths for the times he'd been ill. They knew each other intimately in more ways than one. 

He wets a washcloth and scrubs away the grime from her legs first. He pauses mid-scrub when she shakily folds up his shirtsleeves and he resumes. The water washes down pink and eventually runs clear as he makes quick, but careful work of her arms and then her body. He’s careful around her bruises, gritting his teeth as she quietly winces even to his most gentle touches.

He stops occasionally to calm himself - taking his frustrations out on the now-pink washcloth, wringing it as though it was the neck of her attacker. He’s exacted his revenge, but he still feels helpless.

There’s a light touch to his shoulder and he turns to her. The knowing look she gives him is enough to calm him, even if marginally, and he just touches her cheek tenderly. A thumb gingerly brushes over her cheekbone - purple and blue and slightly swollen. But he remembers himself and draws the hand away. Even if it wounds him to his soul, he ignores the hurt in her eyes.

He takes his time in washing her hair. It’s short again, as it was when they were together. His fingers massage her scalp with practiced ease and she sighs in pleasure, leaning easily into his hands. If it weren’t for the dried blood on his clothes, this would have been nothing but another Saturday night for them. The pink of the water reminds him otherwise.

Lance carefully rinses her body with the showerhead till the water runs clear into the drain. He wraps her loosely in a large towel and just as he makes to carry her out of the tub, she stops him with a hand to his chest. She’s no longer shaking like a leaf, he notes with relief. Regardless, he keeps his arms ready to catch her should she fall as she carefully steps out of the tub on her own.

He leaves the bathroom while she brushes her teeth and returns with clean clothes that he sets on the rack.

“You can take the guest bed,” he speaks up, watching her in the mirror. Her expression falls for a fraction of a second, but it doesn’t escape his notice. “Take whatever you want from the fridge. If you need me, I’ll be in our- _my_ room.”

He leaves before he could see her face change.

* * *

 

After scrubbing his floorboards (and himself) clean and buying the silence of his apartment complex's security, Lance goes to bed with his hair still wet and his skincare regimen abandoned. Incinerating their clothes on the rooftop proved cathartic, and he wishes he could do something for her so she may feel the same. 

Even a year apart, she occupies his mind to the point of insanity. He strains to hear the soft snoring that is decidedly hers, but hearing none, begins to worry.

Had he been too cold with her? He considers walking by her door to make sure she isn’t crying, but resists the temptation. He needs to detach himself from her, but was it _really_ the right choice seeing how much it hurt her?

As he battles with himself in the darkness of his room, his eyes catch a small figure sneaking in quietly. The bed dips on one end, and the sweet perfume of her shampoo is so warmly familiar that it soothes his senses.

“Can’t sleep?” he queries softly. He notices now that she’d thrown aside the clothes he'd laid out for her in favor of wearing one of his shirts - just as she used to before. He allows himself to indulge in how it engulfs her figure, the ends of it skimming her thighs. She shakes her head in response and sits by her old pillow. Pidge stares at it as if it’s an oddity.

They were in - what was at one point - _their_ bed. He has cuddled, slept with and made love to her on these very sheets; the ones she bought the day she moved in with him. And though he’s laundered the sheets more times than necessary to rid them of her scent, it was still _her_ pillow and _her_ pastel green sheets. There was more of her imprint in his apartment - in his _life_ \- than he was willing to admit.

“You should rest in your own bed.”

Though he delivers the line with forced hostility, she brushes it aside and crawls towards him. She rests her head against his bare chest and his heart flutters like he’s a lovestruck teenager again. 

“I’m stronger with you,” she murmurs against his skin. “Please, I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

Immediately, he understands. He imagines getting attacked in her sleep would make her wary of being on her own in the dark for a while yet. For the first time that night, his facade slips. He extends his arm out and allows her to curl up against him, but he keeps his hands rigidly away from her body. Instead, he wraps his blankets around her and - on a whim - strokes her hair till her eyelids finally close.

* * *

 

As she always has, his Pidge sleeps like the dead. He inches his body painstakingly slow from her side, only freezing when he hears a soft, heart-wrenching whimper. She's having a nightmare. His fingers tenderly stroke over the crease between her brows till her expression softens. Pidge grasps at his side of the bed until she finds his pillow and pulls it to herself. She hugs it like it is him, and his heart clenches with longing. His phone buzzes with a text right then and he reluctantly stands up, taking some time to make sure she’s tucked comfortably in blankets before moving to the balcony with his phone.

 

_1 missed call. 3 new messages._

 

_Mullet:_

_[01:24] I’ve taken out the trash. Pick up the phone next time jackass._

_[02:03] If things get too awkward, just crash at my place._

 

_The Godmother:_

_[03:18] Please call._

 

He types up a quick reply to Keith and then calls his boss. She picks up in two rings and her tone is rightly that of an exasperated mother.

“ _Lance. Splendid. I was wondering when you would call._ ” Even angry, her voice is level, but the annoyance isn’t thinly-veiled. Despite it, he knows it is out of concern for their safety.

“Hey Boss,” he greets, leaning back against the balcony so he could watch the woman in his bed. “Sorry, the security guards wanted more than the usual” he sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Haggling bribe money was the cherry on top to the weird day he's had. 

" _We need to get you situated somewhere more discrete,"_ Allura sighs.  _"Perhaps out in the Balmeran HIlls with Hunk?"_

"Pidge would like that." He winces and quietly slaps his forehead. Allura is silent for a bit but has the good graces to ignore his slip-up. 

" _How hurt is she? I've already sent Coran your way. He should be there in ten hours, weather permitting."_

Pidge shifts in her sleep and he makes his way out of the room, closing the door slowly behind him.

“Sure. I don’t need anything. Maybe a few stitches,” he glances down at the bandage on his chest where Sendak’s bullet had very nearly pierced through if it weren’t for his bulletproof vest. “But Pidge...she got roughed up pretty bad.” his fist clenches as remembers her bruises, but he loosens his grip with a deep breath. “But she’s holding herself up. She’s always been a trooper.”

_“That’s good at least.”_

Lance licks his lips and looks over his shoulder, as though to check she isn't peeping through the bedroom door. “Hey, Allura?" he takes in a shaky breath. "I know we have a no-kill policy-”

 _“Think nothing more of the matter, Lance.”_ She interjects too quickly. He knows the mess he’s made and the sort of trouble he's put her in, but he’s sorry to say that he doesn’t regret it one bit. He _i_ _s_ sorry, however, to his friends who've had to literally and figuratively clean up after him.

With the phone pressed to his ear with a shoulder, he packs his briefcase for tomorrow. All the while, Allura gives him the debrief.

Keith had disposed of the body (or at least, what remained of it) and a team had been sent to clean away any evidence of his presence. So far, none of the agencies know he's dead at all. With two sharp clicks, he closes his briefcase and receives his instructions for his next task.

“ _And_ _Lance?_ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _...Guard your heart. I know you love her dearly, but she’s not in the right headspace. Maybe it’s best if she resides with Keith while I’m away?”_

“I know,” he sighs and rubs a temple tiredly. “But I can’t stand being away from her again, Allura.” His voice carries a tone of pleading that surprises him.

She tuts in annoyance, but he hears a reluctant sigh following soon after. “ _I’m certain she’d prefer to stay with you anyway.”_

The call almost finishes there, but Allura stops him before he could hang up.

“ _Are_ you _alright, Lance?”_

He considers the questions for a bit, and then answers honestly. “She’s safe now. I’m more than alright.” He doesn’t know how, but he _knows_ Allura is rolling her eyes at him.

“ _I’m going to insist that you attend therapy with Shiro all the same.”_

“Sure, Mom.”

He hangs up before he could hear her not-so-subtle threats.

* * *

 

“I want him dead,” Pidge declares to him in the morning. The sun streams through the windows and the news plays in the background. It's the first time she's spoken since last night and he looks up to appraise her. He notices that color has returned to her cheeks and lips; her complexion now more creamy than the ghastly pale it was a few hours ago. The bruises weren’t as angry and had already begun to fade. She’s still staring blankly at the plate of eggs he’s made her, but she lifts her gaze to look directly at him. “I want him to pay for what he did to my brother.”

“He _is_ dead,” he replies pointedly. He tears off a piece of bread and mops up the last of his eggs. She watches him mutely and he reasons she wants to know more. “I made sure of that.” She shivers a little at his reply - his admittance of what had happened, he realizes -  but she doesn’t look as terrified as she did last night.

“You saved me,” she speaks softly, fingers picking distractedly at a piece of a toast. “Thank you.”

Every instinct screams at him to pull her onto his lap. Hold her, kiss her, tell her that he would do it all again if it meant she was safe. But he checks his emotions and polishes off the last of his breakfast with the grace of an Altean gentleman. “Just doing my job.” His tone is stiffer than he likes, but he knows the alternative would do him no favors.

He’d eventually spent the night in the guest bedroom, after tending to his own wounds. He woke to find her asleep next to him. He shouldn’t have been surprised by it really, but a small part of him is just glad that she doesn't fear him.

 

Her eyes are cast down now, as though she’s in deep thought. “Sendak. That’s his name, wasn’t it?” He gives a slow nod in reply and reaches for his coffee.  “Was he the one that...killed Matt?”

“Yeah, him. He kil- He was responsible for Matt. But Sendak's a goon. It's his boss who we want. The man who ordered the hit.”

“...Lotor?” Her voice wavers when she speaks the name and Lance remembers that the news is still very new to her. The very people she’s placed her trust on - enough to abandon her lover and her friends -  to find her brother, had killed him. Worse still, she had been their next target.

“Yes.”

“Won’t they come after you?”

He pauses mid-sip and sets his coffee down slowly. After all she’s been through, her concern is for him?  “They’ve always been after me, Pidge. All of us, actually.”

“Oh,” she mumbles something under her breath but he’s too preoccupied with texting to pick it up. But it seems like she's determined to let him know as her voice raises.

“I want to kill him!” 

He jumps in surprise and looks over to the tiny woman. She doesn't back down when he shoots her the most withering glare he can manage. He knows not to underestimate her, but there will always be a part of him that wants to shield her from any and all danger out of nothing but his enduring devotion to her.

Now that she commands his full attention, she explains herself in more measured tones. “I want to join you. The Organization too, if Allura will have me again.”

Lance merely blinks at her and his reply is a curt “no." He gives her a look of warning as her lips part for an argument, but she seals them reluctantly. As permissive as he's been in the past, she knows not to challenge him when it came to her safety. There was a hefty bounty out for her head; recklessness would spell death for her. 

She huffs and glumly nibbles on a toast, turning her attention to the TV. He turns to it for the first time that morning and notices with alarm that her picture features the headline news.

_“- daughter of the late Samuel and Colleen Holt, Katerina is the latest Holt family member to disappear. This follows the murder of her brother, wanted fugitive Dr. Matthew Holt, by the Altean mob. The police reports that her Plaht Lane apartment had been broken into last night. There were clear signs of a struggle-”_

The TV switches off and Pidge’s head snaps towards him, annoyance clear in her eyes. “I was watching that,” she grumbles, lower lip jutting out in a pout that he admits, is rather characteristic (and adorable) of her. 

“You need a place to stay, don’t you?” he interrupts, setting down the remote.

“I have my apar-” she pauses and likely recalls then she couldn’t go back to the very place that they had found her in.

“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable, but you can stay here as long as you want.”  He considers if he should push her towards Allura as soon as she returns. She’d be much safer with her than him and he guiltily wonders if it’s more for his own sake than her own. “If you like, I can go live with K-”

“You,” she blurts. “I want to stay with you.”

There’s a strange pull in his chest, but he shoves the feeling down before it can take over. She’s here as his ward, not his ex. For her own protection, he needs to think straight.

“Why are they framing Allura?” she turns her head to the TV. Though he’s turned it off, he knows she’s referring to the news. It's not unusual for them to be already pointing fingers at their group. “She- _We_ don’t even kill people.” She realizes her mistake and her eyes widen as she looks over to him warily. "...Usually."

But Lance’s mind had gone elsewhere entirely. He feels like he should not feel hope at her collective choice of word. _We_ . Was she really intending to join them again? And a smaller voice, _was she intending to return to him?_ He blinks, and the thought disappears. He knows better than to entertain senseless things like that.

“She’s an easy target,” he replies simply. He wipes his fingers and reaches for his phone again. In twenty minutes, he needed to meet his contact on the other end of town. “They view us a threat. Ironic, when you consider we do more to protect than the killing they do.”

She winces at his sharp tone and he mentally curses himself. He distracts himself by pouring her a cup of coffee and quietly adds her regular three sugars.

“I’m sorry.”

His heart stops, but he continues stirring her coffee as though he's unaffected. He sets the mug before her, avoiding her eyes, and makes his way to the couch. There, a new pair of shoes waited for him. Left behind by Keith at some point in the night. He is in dangerous territory now - he could not tell if she’s apologizing to _him_ or if she’s referring to the organization as a whole. He picks the latter and simply shrugs.

“Allura understands,” he sighs as he seats himself to put on the shoes. They were an exact copy of the ones he had to destroy last night, along with their other clothes. “She forgave you a long time ago.” As had he.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispers. His breath hitches, but he resumes tying his laces like she’d done nothing but casually inform him of the weather. He wants to tell her more - _respond in kind_ \- but he knows now is not the time. She will never admit it, but she was vulnerable, scared and lonely. And as much as he longs for her to be in his arms again, he knows that she needs time to heal.

But all his resolve dissipates when he looks up. He sees her standing before him, tears dripping down her cheeks.

He's  _way_ too soft for her. 

The tension between them shatters then. He stands up to cradle her face, his thumbs tenderly brushing away the tears. Even together, she struggled to tell him those precious words.  "I have to go out for a bit," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. He brushes her hair back to inspect the cut on her forehead. It’s weeping plasma and had begun to close. He reminds himself to get more bandages and antiseptic while he’s out. "I'll be back in two hours. Hopefully, just before Coran arrives. Will you be alright on your own?"

She sniffles and gives him a nod.

“There’s lunch in the fridge in case you're hungry. Don’t answer the door unless you know it’s me, Coran or Keith. You still remember the signal?”

“Two knocks, a pause and then three.”

He nods, letting a soft smile twitch to his lips. “No one else but the Organization, knows you’re here. You’re safe,” he affirms, his voice gentle. When his hand goes down to cup her cheek, he realizes too late he speaks to her as if she’s his lover again. He steps back abruptly, dropping his hand before his touch becomes too affectionate. He does not need to sway a vulnerable woman now and least of all, a woman he loves with all his heart and soul; a woman he has actually killed for.

She follows him to the door, just as she used to when he leaves for his work. She even helps him into his coat and her hands reach up to adjust his tie. He would have pulled away if he wasn't so sentimental. He allows her to straighten the knot, his eyes focused entirely on her as her face slowly tilts up. By this time, he’s typically kissing her senseless and in even older times, they’d wind up on his couch (or the kitchen counter), making him extremely late for work. But this time, he simply touches her cheek again, and he knows his eyes look at her with too much yearning.

“Your old laptop is still in my room. You know where to find it.” There's a twinge of joy in his chest as her entire demeanor brightens and he allows himself to be pulled down for a chaste kiss to the cheek. Allura might chew him out for it, but it was worth Pidge’s smile. He tugs her hands away gently and makes for the door, grabbing his suitcase on the way. “I'll see if I can convince our Godmother to give you your job back.”

As terrifying as Allura can be, she had a soft spot for all of her underlings - so much so she doesn’t even treat nor refer to them as underlings. Each member was practically family and Pidge was no exception; even if she had abandoned them in favor of looking for her brother.

“You _know_ she hates it when you call her that.”

“I think it’s badass.”

She laughs and it’s still the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And because she’s his biggest weakness, he finds himself turning on his heel to face her again, just as he was about to leave.

“Any requests?”

“Peanut butter.”

“Smooth?”

“I’m not an animal,” she scoffs and he’s glad a semblance of her is returning to him. He feels himself grin.

“Anything else?”

She pauses and fiddles with the too-long sleeves of his shirt. “...Come home safe.”

And just as though they are living together again, he responds. “Your wish is my command.”

**Author's Note:**

> One of my New Year's resolutions was to step out of my comfort zones more. So this time, I challenged myself to write a fic in the present tense and hence this fic was born. Hope you've enjoyed it! 
> 
> Penny for your thoughts? ♥


End file.
